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John Marston
and I had just come off Butter Bridge one day, trotting
nonchalantly toward McFarlane Ranch train station. We ended up in
the Twilight Zone instead. We had just passed the triangle where
Red Train stops to let Blue Train pass. Red Train was about a half
mile behind us, chugging up the steep hill in Mexico toward the
bridge. I was waiting for it to catch up because I wanted to see
whether it would do its collision thing with Blue Train which was
chugging toward the other triangle over on the north side of the
ranch. These collisions are rare but I had seen one recently and I
was trying to re-create the circumstances that might cause another
one, angry terrorist that I am. I base this on the fact that Red
Train had not stopped a…